Gemotions

David hated the incessant buzzing of the doorbell. This time, a delivery. "Mr. Thomas Ashton." Another mistake. He almost left it outside. Then he remembered he had nothing to do. The silence in his apartment was often suffocating, a heavy blanket.

He pulled the door open, allowing the light to flood the small space. Inside, was a collection of gourmet coffee beans and a French press. Thomas Ashton, whoever he was, had good taste. David had been drinking instant coffee for years.

He ground the beans, the aroma filling his apartment. He savored the first sip, the rich, complex flavor awakening his senses. The silence was less oppressive, the space a little brighter. He had a new appreciation for the space he occupied.